


The 'Stiltskin Gene

by DarcyFarrow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Family, Fluff, Grandpa 'Stiltskin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyFarrow/pseuds/DarcyFarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preparations are underway for the Miners Day picnic, with Hook and David both stepping up to serve as Henry's partner in the father-son races.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 'Stiltskin Gene

"What are you doing?" Emma crooks an eyebrow as she catches her sort-of-beau standing over a pot of water on one of the diner's stoves. 

"Boiling an egg, of course." Hook glances over his shoulder just long enough to wink at her before returning his attention to the water. 

Emma then notices the egg waiting on the counter. "Haven't you heard that a watched pot—never mind. You know, Granny would've whipped something up for you, if you're hungry."

"Not hungry, love: rehearsing." He brandishes a tablespoon. "For the egg and spoon race."

"Huh?"

"The egg and spoon race. The object is to run a race while carrying an egg on a spoon, with the spoon wedged between your teeth." He demonstrates by sticking the spoon between his lips, then balancing his egg upon it. 

"Let me guess: this is how pirates amuse themselves during those long voyages." Emma removes the egg from the spoon and releases it into the water. "You're boiling."

"Thanks." He watches the egg slide to the bottom of the pot. "This is one of the competitions in the Miners Day picnic. I'm quite fleet of foot, actually. I intend to win."

"I see." Emma watches the water gurgle around the egg. "As I recall, that's a father-and-son event."

"Precisely why I must win. For Henry." His voice drops on the last sentence. "Because Baelfire can't."

"That's very thoughtful," Emma falls silent. She needn't remind Killian that Henry has no expectations when it comes to father-son activities: they both know how short Neal's time was with Henry. She touches his shoulder. "Your egg's ready."

\------------  
"What are you doing?" Mary Margaret presents a spoonful of strained apricots to Baby Neal and the infant clamps his lips around it. "My little man, hungry enough to eat a dragon," she coos.

"Nope, just a couple of boiled eggs," David answers from the sink, where he's filling a pot with water. He glances over his shoulder at the mother-and-son tableau at the breakfast table. "Oh. You were talking to–"

"My other little man," Mary Margaret twinkles.

"Never mind. You want one, hon?" He carries a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.

"We had breakfast less than an hour ago."

"Just thought I'd ask, as long as I'm boiling." He sets the filled pot onto the stove and turns on the burner, then opens the carton. "Are these all the eggs we have left?" He shows her the three eggs nestled in their protective styrofoam. 

"Maybe you can go shopping after work," she suggests. "There's a list on the fridge."

"Sure." He adds "EGGS" to the list, then returns to the stove to wait for the water to boil.

"Haven't you heard a watched pot—" Neal interrupts his mom's remark with a demand for more apricots, which she hastily provides. "Now I know where your son gets his appetite."

"Oh, these aren't for eating. They're for racing."

"For–did I hear you right? For racing?" 

"You know." David sets an egg onto a wooden spoon and sticks the spoon in his mouth to demonstrate. "The egg and spoon race. And then there's the three-legged race and the tug of war and the dragon toss. Which I'm sure we'll win."

"Oh! The Miners Day picnic," Mary Margaret catches on. "But, as clever as our little man is, don't you think you should wait until he's walking before you sign him up for sports?"

"It's for me and Henry." David informs her, kissing the top of Baby Neal's head. "I'm sure Neal would've done all these father-son activities with him, but. . . . "

"Thank you, honey, for thinking of him." Mary offers a third spoonful of apricots to her ravenous child. "I remember, before the curse broke, how Henry would sit at a picnic table all alone and watch the other kids play with their dads. Regina would be busy politicking and pretending to flip burgers for the cameras. He looked so lonely."

"Yeah. Well, Neal would've made sure he got included in the fun. He would've been a good dad. But since he's gone, Gramps is gonna step up to the plate." He brandishes his spoon. 

"Has he asked you yet?"

"No, but," David shrugs. "Who else would he want, in place of his dad?"

"What if he wants Killian?"

"I don't think he likes Hook all that much. Besides, who's been his go-to guy for riding lessons and fencing?"

"He might ask Killian anyway, to please Emma. Maybe you'd better talk to Henry about it tonight."

"Yeah. Sure." David eases the three eggs into the boiling water. "But he's going to pick me. I mean, I'm his Gramps. A boy needs his Gramps."

\---------------  
The other kids pick up the pace as they pass Gold's pawnshop on the way home from the bus stop, but Henry slows down, then finally comes to a complete stop before the big window. "Come on," Hansel tugs at Henry's jacket. "You don't want him to catch you, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" Henry scoffs. "We don't have to be afraid of him any more. He's not the boogeyman, you know."

"Yeah, he's worse," Gretel reminds them. "The Dark One."

"He killed the wicked witch and Peter Pan, and he summons wraiths and beats people with his cane," Hansel enumerates.

Henry yanks out of Hansel's grip. "He's my grandpa."

"Henry," Hansel warns, but Henry pushes the shop door open. "Henry!" The Zimmer kids take off down the street as Henry vanishes into the dank store. 

The shopkeeper's bell tinkles and the curtains that separate the workroom from the showroom slide apart, their rings rasping against the metal curtain rod. Henry freezes in the entranceway, for though he knows his grandfather sacrificed himself to protect him and his father and Belle, old superstitions run deep. Rooted to the floor, Henry yet stands his ground as the impeccibly attired owner emerges from the workroom.

"Henry." The accent is softened with surprise. "Hello." And warmth? "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Henry takes one step forward as the Dark One takes two, and now they're face to face in the middle of the shop. Henry sticks his right hand into his jacket pocket, unconsciously mirroring Gold's posture. "I have a question."

"Certainly. I'll do my best to answer it." But before the conversation can continue, heels clack rapidly on the wooden floor and Belle now emerges from the workroom. She's holding a rag in one hand and bronzed baby booties in the other. "Hi, Henry! Good to see you." She crosses the divide, setting the rag and booties onto the counter as she passes it, and she greets the visitor with a hug.

Any hesitation he felt is brushed aside as he hugs her back. "Hey, Belle." Then he releases her and takes one more step forward toward his grandfather. "The Miners Day picnic is Saturday. I know you usually don't go to stuff like that, but there's this competition, a couple of races and a tug of war and a dragon toss. They give out a trophy to the winners." Henry's watching Gold's face closely as the man begins to understand. This ability to read people is a 'Stiltskin skill, passed down genetically, apparently, through four generations. "It's a father-son thing," Henry continues. "But for guys that don't have a dad, they're allowed to ask someone else to fill in."

"Like a mom?" Gold suggests. "Or a mom's boyfriend?"

"Or a grandpa."

Gold gives one of his mysterious half-smiles. "A guy would be sure to win, with a partner like Prince David."

"I was thinking," Henry licks his dry lips, "I want you for my partner."

"Me?" Gold blinks, and Belle makes a funny little pleased sound.

"You're my grandpa too."

Gold's mouth opens, but no sound comes out, until Henry triggers the other 'Stiltskin gene, the one for negotiation. "If we win, you can keep the trophy."

A full-on smile appears on Gold's face: it's the first of its kind that Henry has ever seen, but it won't be the last, if Henry has anything to say about it. "Suppose we amend that deal. You can keep the trophy, but suppose, in return for my participation in these events, you join Belle and me for dinner tonight?"

"There'll be a German chocolate cake," Belle offers.

"It's a sort of celebration, you see. Today would have been your father's birthday." Gold's finger traces imaginary numbers in the air. "His two-hundred fiftieth birthday. So you see, quite special."

Emboldened, Henry seizes the opportunity and pushes. "Throw in some stories about what Dad was like when he was kid."

Gold holds out his hand. "You have a deal, my boy. When shall we begin practicing?"


End file.
